Thanksgiving Coffee Company

It’s Passover, the Jewish celebration of freedom and the telling of the story of Exodus, told literally and interpretively in ways new and old. For me, and many other people of the Jewish tradition, Passover is a vital link between our cultural and religious inheritance and our work for justice; it illuminates a legacy of struggle, and helps us understand our place in a human geography of people called to make the world a better place, or more specifically, to pursue the realization of freedom for everyone, everywhere.

So, that’ a long way of saying that I’ve been thinking about freedom and justice extra hard lately, and I thought I’d share a few thoughts on the topic, as it relates to fair trade.

Fundamentally, fair trade is about changing the character of economic relationships so that producer and consumer come together in a whole partnership, one that sustains, nourishes, and shares. For farmers, this often means a transformation of the conditions of their lives—from poverty, and struggle of not having enough, to freedom, and the ability to choose with agency. It’s the difference between choosing which child not to send to kindergarten, and choosing which child to send to high school or even college. The uniting of farmers with consumers in a relationship that is direct, just, and sustaining changes the world. It creates a condition of freedom, or at least, circumstances of life that are more-free, with the possibility of the ever-opening pursuit of more freedom.

This is the heart of fair trade’s freedom, but it is only one side of a partnership, and its pursuit is incomplete (and I might say impossible) without an exploration of freedom’s other side.

Far away from the farmers who grow our coffee, we walk through the automatic doors of our neighborhood supermarket and are confronted with a countless number of choices. Products offer us health, energy, deliciousness, maybe even the fullness of satisfaction. We feel our power, and choose our favorite loaf of bread from the selection. Our favorite peanut butter. Our favorite fruit jam or jelly. So many choices. Then it’s on to bananas or oranges, maybe both, and apples, pears, lettuce and spinach. Then the coffee section. Strong or sweet, ground or whole bean, flavored or not. We wheel our carts to checkout, each of pushing a metal cart containing the results of our choices—or is it a cage containing the work of our freedom, a definition of self expressed through our agency to choose within the choices given to us?

What interests me is the question how are we to understand our freedom as consumers. To move from choosing within the narrow choices given to us, and the meaning of those choices, literally manufactured by a corporate culture, towards an economy where we choose in a broadly free way, where meaning is personal, and the process of choosing is liberated from external pressure, definition, and constraint.

This seems to me to be a study of the unfreedom of our condition as consumers in a world beyond our control, our blind (or distorted) participation in relationships formed predominantly by another’s choices, our day-to-day feeding of a social organism directed and guided to serve the interests of some over the many. If freedom is the ability to choose, to connect, and to know in truth, then we are greatly deceived by the illusion of freedom we so surrounded within.

Fair trade proposes a very different kind of freedom, the freedom to choose not only for self (think back to health, deliciousness, satisfaction) but also to choose for other. The possibility of choosing to consume in a way that takes and gives, the possibility, as I’ve written elsewhere, to re-imagine our role as consumers to be more like co-producers in a world where farmers feed, and are fed. Where we who take do our taking in a way that sustains the ability of those who give to give.

These are the two sides of fair trade’s work for freedom. I hope that you who know the story of Peace Kawomera, who’ve met the farmers, read their interviews, and thought of them when you bought and drank their coffee—you who’ve made this project whole and who it possible for our company and their cooperative to continue our work—I hope that your participation has given you a new sense of freedom, your freedom, and another’s, together awakening a new, more whole, more free world.

Yours in Peace (and for Freedom),

Ben

I just found a treasure, in the midst of a task I’ve been dreading (always a good lesson).

Over the course of the past four weeks, as we’ve met with community leaders, presented our work to interfaith coalitions, and individual congregations, we’ve kept a growing stack of signup sheets for our email newsletter. By the end, the stack had that nice heavy feel of a full file folder—substantial, and gratifying, but also…kind of a chore to enter each name and email, hundereds of ‘em.

At least that’s what I thought. So I came in to work early this morning. Sat down with a sweet cup of Byron Corrales Martinez’s organic Maracaturra (Byron is and has been a mentor for me, he’s a leader in the cooperative movement in Nicaragua, and a dear friend. No, contrary to popular belief, I don’t only drink Mirembe Kawomera coffee.) I put Midnite on my headphones (great politically charged reggae from St. Croix) and started typing one-by-one-by-one, trying to enjoy the time, but mostly looking forward to being done with it.

And then…I started to pay attention to the names, to enjoy their sounds and to imagine their stories. Luo, McDowell, Shapiro, Qarni, Najmi…that was Boston, I think. Panitz, Curtis, Abu Jamal, Allen, Ali, Van Besien, Weisbaum…that was Chicago, the sign-up sheet from our event at Columbia College. Then Lupien, Khan, Gardner, Hasaan, Mulazim, and Gardner, from Baltimore . These people were standing next to each other, probably talking, maybe shaking hands, perhaps trading phone numbers and email addresses. Read their names out loud, for yourself. Imagine the world they are living in. People of all different backgrounds, faiths, and histories, together in a moment, a rich tapestry of human experience, weaving their disparate threads together around this project…

So now, with the chore transformed into a kind of treasure hunt, I sit and ponder the beauty of this work to build peace by working together; the work of creating a pluralistic society where are differences are cause for celebration and a source of inspiration, rather than a cause for division and conflict.

Still yours, in Peace,

Ben

Dear Friends,

We’re home safely—JJ, Sinina, Margaret, and Sam in Uganda, and Holly and I on the Mendocino Coast—after our last week on the road, and an incredible month-long tour. I spoke with JJ this morning, and as you could expect, he’s thrilled to be home with his new baby girl Grace Ellen Ntuyo. In JJ’s proud words, “She’s very beautiful, and very fine”.

Since my last post we visited new friends in Sacramento, celebrated our work in San Francisco with their Interfaith Council, and their members the Jewish Community High School of the Bay, Temple Emanu-El, The Islamic Society of San Francisco, Congregation Sherith Israel, culminating in a day with Grace Cathedral, where the Reverend Alan Jones gave a wonderful Easter Sermon. Then on to Los Angeles where we were hosted by the San Fernando Valley Interfaith Council, The Wilshire Boulevard Synagogue, and Holy Family Church in Pasadena. Our trip ended with a quick, but wonderful visit to Olympia, Washington, where a young but inspired interfaith collaboration is in the works, led by Beth Hatfiloh, Interfaith Works, and others.

All too soon, it was March 27, 5:30 in the morning, in an airport motel down the road from the Seattle airport. We were stuffing too many suitcases in too small a van for the last time, and this time, as we moved through check-in and security, Holly and I stepped back and watched as our friends made their way through to their gate, to Boston, through Amsterdam, back to Uganda. And I couldn’t help but feel that it felt a little like a family was being split up, or at least saying going different ways, out into the world to live our own lives, but with the knowledge that there is a place and people to come back to. I often find myself looking for aspects of community, family, and friendship in my relationships through this work. As I’ve said before, when you get down to it, business is really just a certain kind of relationship between people. And more often than not, thankfully and beautifully, I find these connections. For me, the teary departure, the proud goodbyes, are signs that we are on the right path, that we are coming together on the most fundamentally human terms, honestly, genuinely, in relationship that is not free from struggle, but rich with learning, growth, and real progress.

I know that though our tour was overbooked, overscheduled, underslept, and sometimes frantic, we did in fact share this same family-like connection with hundreds, if not thousands of people across the country. To those of you who have brought this story into your life, who organized an event, hosted us in your home, sang along, asked a question, or wished us well, thank you. It’s great to be home, great to get some rest, and great catch up with friends and family. But it’s hard to say goodbye, not only to JJ, Sam, Margaret, and Sinina, but to each of you, and the whole experience of being welcome in the world, at home, far away from home.

Yours in Peace,

Ben